Untitiled Age Disparity AU
by samsamtastic
Summary: Blaine Anderson, a teacher at Dalton, notices somebody out of place... Blaine is 24 and Kurt is 17 and they are in a relationship and this will also eventually have smut
1. In which Blaine thwarts the Spy

**Title: **None yet!  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Glee**  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> **I do not own Glee or any of it's recognizable characters or plot lines.**  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> **Blaine/Kurt**  
><strong>Rating:<strong> **PG, mentions of bullying**  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> **currently no warnings**  
><strong>Summary:<strong>** Blaine Anderson, teacher at Dalton, notices somebody out of place...

"Mr. Anderson, it's nearly time," one of the anxious students called out. Nearly every single boy in the class room had gotten out of their seat and was crowded at the door. Blaine looked up from the quizzes that he was grading at the clock before fixing his study hall with a stern glare. Several of the boys shuffled back towards their seats ashamedly. He capped his pen with a long suffering sigh, drawing out the moment for a bit longer, reveling in the feeling of being on the other side of the desk in this case for once.

"Get out of here," Blaine laughed, breaking out into a huge grin. The boys let out a collective whoop of cheer and shoved at each other to get out into the hallway first. Nearby classes must have been inspired by the stampede he let loose, for when he reached the door not a minute later, the corridor was a familiar sea of red and navy. He still clearly remembered his days at Dalton, especially the days that the Warbler's held their usual end of the month hostile take over of the school. While most people wanted to forget high school when they went off to college, there were few memories that he wanted to lose of the place that had been his safe haven.

Blaine followed the crowd towards the senior commons. As the youngest teacher on staff, he had been the easy choice to supervise the unofficially school sanctioned Warbler's concert. He remembered when the Warblers held their concerts under constant threat of detention. Times had certainly changed while he had been away.

The song was just getting underway when Blaine spotted him. It was the lack of proper uniform that caught his eye first, but then Blaine couldn't help himself from staring. It was obvious bad form to ogle students but since this kid was clearly not a student - he would have been sent to the assistant principals office for a uniform infraction within seconds of the first bell - Blaine allowed himself a moment of admiration. The kid was pale, but in a healthy, well groomed kind of way, with wide blue eyes that kept darting around in something akin to wonder. Blaine reasoned he must be a spy of some sort, trying to get information on the Warblers - he didn't know which schools the boys were up against for regionals but Carmel High had been notorious even back in his time with the group for their underhanded tactics.

"Excuse me," Blaine called out once the Warblers had finished and the room was starting to empty out. Several students turned, including the boy. Blaine raised his eyebrows slightly and beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. The boy paled even further - Blaine hadn't thought that was possible - and shuffled through the now sparse crowd, clinging to the strap of his bag for dear life.

"I'm going to be late for class," the boy started, voice shaky and uncertain. Blaine smiled warmly and shook his head.

"I know you're not a student," he said, sitting down on one of the long couches and gesturing to a nearby armchair.

"Please don't tell, I'll leave campus right now and won't speak a word of what I saw. If they find out, I'm sure to get beaten up," the boy hissed franticly, looking over his shoulder to where the council had gathered at the other end of the commons for a post-performance meeting. The grip on his bag tightened until his knuckles turned white, like he was planning on swinging it around.

"Calm down, I won't be telling anybody anything," Blaine laughed lightly. "Provided, that is, that you tell me your name and what you're doing here."

"I think I should just get-"

"Sit down," Blaine said using his best 'teacher voice' to stop the boy from standing up any further. He fell back against the cushions with an ungraceful flop. "I'm Blaine Anderson, long term substitute in the History Department, occasional French teacher." Blaine held his hand out formally to Kurt.

"Kurt Hummel, counter tenor for McKinley Glee club. We're up against the Warblers for Regionals and I came to scope out the competition," Kurt said shortly, shaking his hand as quickly as possible. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed in annoyance.

"You happened upon a treasure trove then, haven't you?"

"It was amazing, seeing everybody so into it like that. I can't believe how accepting-"

"I was talking about seeing your competition in full performance mode," Blaine cut in. Kurt's face fell and he dropped his eyes to his lap. "You didn't just come here to spy, did you?"

"No," Kurt whispered.

"Care to expand upon that answer, Mister Hummel?" Blaine asked gently.

"I heard - I mean Dalton has a reputation, you know, for being… well," Kurt trailed off with an effeminate flick of his wrist and a dry, humorless chuckle.

"This is not a gay school, Kurt. The administration just doesn't tolerate bullying of any kind, so many boys who find themselves uncomfortable or in danger seek out our policy. I did, when I was your age," Blaine admitted. Kurt's eyes snapped back to Blaine's.

"You went here?"

"I transferred right at the start of my sophomore year. I take it you're having trouble at school?"

"I'm the only person out of the closet," Kurt began, voice shaking slightly. Blaine could see he was starting to tear up and wanted nothing more than to take his hand and give him support, but there were still several students lingering in the commons and gossip was like wildfire in the halls of Dalton. "I - I try and stay strong about it, but there's this Neanderthal who's made it his mission to make my life a living hell. And nobody seems to notice."

"I know how you feel," Blaine said after a beat of silence, trying not to sound like he was giving Kurt his pity. "I got taunted, at my first school. That was nearly nine years ago, so there was nothing anybody would really do. It was like 'hey, if you're gay, your life is just going to be miserable, sorry. Nothing we can do about it.' So I left, came here. Their policies were even more strict back then, left over from a military academy set of rules rather than a no-tolerance policy on bullies."

Kurt was silent, staring at the coffee table between them, so Blaine continued. "So you have two options. I'd love to tell you to just come enroll here, but tuition to Dalton is pretty steep and I know that's not an option for everybody. Or you can refuse to be the victim prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt, and you have a chance right now to teach him."

"How?" Kurt asked, obviously skeptical, but so open and honest that the raw emotion in his eyes made Blaine ache. He knew he should give a diplomatic answer, something befitting a responsible educator, but Kurt looked so honestly terrified of the prospect of this Neanderthal that he just had to speak up.

"Confront him. Call him out! I ran, Kurt, I didn't stand up. I let the bullies chase me away. As much as I loved Dalton, it is something that I really, really regret," Blaine did reach out then. He awkwardly patted Kurt's knee instead of taking his hand and then stood up. "I can give you a few numbers, of people you could talk to in the mean time."

"You mean like counselors?" Kurt scoffed. Like that, he was closed off and cold again. "I'm not talking to a shrink."

"They're not shrinks, Kurt. They're professionals who -"

"Save it, there's no way I'm doing that. Thanks, but no," Kurt snapped. He sprang from his chair and was halfway to the door by the time Blaine registered that he was gone.

"Wait!" Blaine called on instinct. Something told him he couldn't let Kurt go without a lifeline, without something solid to fall back on.

"What?"

"I'll give you my number. I'm not trained for this sort of thing, but I have first hand experience," Blaine reasoned, sounding to his own ears like he was trying to convince himself rather than Kurt.

"Okay, yes, that would be nice," Kurt said. He came back over, pulling out an iPhone and holding it out to Blaine, who quickly entered his number and handed it back before the last two council members still in the room dragged their attention away from their song books to pay them any mind.

"Message me so I have your number. If you need anything, just ask. Somebody to talk to, advice. I'll- I'll try my best for you, Kurt," Blaine said with a warm smile. Kurt bit his lip and nodding. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

When Blaine got back to his office after grabbing lunch, his cell phone displayed two messages.

_(555-5878) : It's Kurt._

_(555-5878) : Thank you._

Blaine grinned and saved the number to his contacts before replying.

_To Hummel, Kurt : Don't text and drive!_

_To Hummel, Kurt : And you're welcome._


	2. In which Blaine sees RENT Part 1

The next day, Blaine found himself constantly wondering if Kurt was alright. He had barely talked to the boy, but their situations were so achingly similar that he felt drawn to him. Those massive blue eyes probably had something to do with it as well, but he resolutely refused to entertain the idea. Blaine restrained himself from text messaging Kurt for most of the morning, but by lunch he was so anxious that he dove for his cell phone before the last student was even out of the classroom.

_To Hummel, Kurt : How are things at school today?_

He barely had to wait a minute before the reply showed up.

_From Hummel, Kurt : It's a better day. No slushie as of yet._

_To Hummel, Kurt : Slushie?_

_From Hummel, Kurt : They throw them at us._

_To Hummel, Kurt : I'm sorry, that's terrible._

_From Hummel, Kurt : It's better than getting slammed into a locker._

_To Hummel, Kurt : You know, if he's leaving marks, you should go to the authorities and charge him with assault._

When no reply came for several minute, Blaine worried he'd gone too far. Kurt obviously only wanted somebody to talk to, not some one who would lecture him about getting help with his situation like a counselor would. He put his phone back in his brief case with a sigh. Maybe he would stop putting his foot in his mouth after some lunch. Blaine had become an educator for exactly this reason - to help kids like he had been find their way when they faced opposition. And here he was, finally faced with a situation he should have been able to handle, and he was fumbling everything.

Blaine found himself cornered by the Warblers council on his way out of the teacher's lounge and was running too late for his next class to check his phone. He took every pause in his lecture to glance over at his briefcase, willing it to suddenly become transparent so he could see if the message light was blinking. Instead of asking if there were any questions, Blaine dismissed class five minutes early, mind too scattered to think past anything related to early US history that he hadn't already prepared.

_From Hummel, Kurt : I know I should. But that doesn't make it any easier. _

_To Hummel, Kurt : Stay strong, Kurt._

_From Hummel, Kurt : One day they'll all work for me, so it'll be okay._

Blaine was still chuckling to himself when the first students for his next class trickled in.

Several days later, Blaine was grading quizzes when a knock came on his door shortly after his office hours started at 4 PM. He called for the person to come in and when he looked up, James Quentin was standing at his office door. James was a senior taking the experimental history course on the major revolutions in history that Blaine had developed as part of his senior thesis project in college - it was the main reason he got the job at Dalton. That and the fact that the job description asked for somebody who was willing to work only one year while one of their teachers took off to edit the book he'd been working on for most of his career. Blaine wanted a year off before heading to graduate school and getting to teach at his old high school and work with some of the mist gifted young minds in the country had been an instant sell.

"Have a question about the test tomorrow?" Blaine asked, setting down his pen. James shook his head and shuffled into the room. He stopped in front of Blaine's desk with his hands tucked neatly behind his back, like he was standing at attention.

"I, um, work at a theater, you know the kind that puts on, like, plays and stuff, not movies. Well, I was in the box office last night and somebody came in and sold back a ticket to the show tonight. I, um, I hope I wasn't too presumptuous but I heard you telling Mister Lawrence the other day at dinner about how you had tried to get a ticket and couldn't get one, so I stuck it under you name at will call. You don't have to go, I'm working again tonight and can just put it back on sale-"

"James."

"Sorry, sir."

"Are you saying you've set aside a ticket for me to see RENT tonight?" Blaine asked, trying to sound gently unimpressed while he was secretly screaming in joy. James nodded jerkily. The boy was intelligent, but incredibly awkward around every single teacher in the school. Blaine supposed it had something to do with his military father and some lingering issues with authority - namely fearing that everybody would crack him one over the head for messing up.

"Thank you, James. I'm honored you would think of me and set it aside," Blaine smiled, pushing his chair back to stand and hold his hand out to James. The boy stared dumbly at it for a second before lighting up with a bright grin and gave it a firm shake.

"I best, um, go and study then. The test tomorrow and all," James said, turning to go. Once he had nearly gotten out into the hallway, Blaine spoke up.

"James, if I were you, I'd brush up on the ideologies of the American and French revolutions and pick some main points to think about that make them different. I heard a rumor there would be an essay about it," Blaine nodded once before sitting back down and pretending to return to his grading. He waited for the soft snick of his door shutting before jumping up and silently punching the air with joy. He knew he should feel guilty about what he had just done, all of his college career he had been preached at about the ethics of rewarding gifts from students with academic advantage. But obviously none of his professors had had an experience in a school quite like Dalton.

Almost all of the families who sent their sons to live under the colors of navy and red were of Old Money. They understood that sometimes it took a bit of grease to ease the way to what they wanted. Blaine's parents certainly had. The Anderson Music hall was built with the generous donations that they made to ensure Blaine's complete safety, as well as the single room he had been awarded for all three of his boarding years. What had just happened was simply politics. No teacher would ever give outright answers in return for a gift, but if you happened to show up to class with a box Mister Haupert's favorite chocolates from Switzerland you would find a slip several hours later with page numbers to pay extra attention to. Miss Boehr, before she developed allergies, was quite partial to fresh flowers in exchange for an outline of main points she wanted you to touch on in your essays.

Blaine packed his briefcase in record time and hung a note on his door handle stating that his office hours were being cut short for _personal reasons_ but would be extended the next day. He was practically vibrating with excitement. It had been years since he had seen RENT on stage, an utter travesty considering it was his favorite. A cliché, sure, but the lyrics had been there for him when nobody else was, when nobody wanted anything to do with him. He drove home in a half daze, nearly taking out several post boxes. He ate chicken flavored Cup Noodles over the sink in his kitchen, not sure he could make it through anything more complicated unharmed.

A long shower relaxed him, though, and he moved away from the jittery pre-show feeling into a warm, euphoric stage. It had been far too long since had anything to do with music. Blaine had been the lead Warbler for two and a half years, on track for scholarships to any music program he wanted. But he'd chosen to double major in history and education - a respectable choice for the child of a second son. His father would never inherit true control of the family's company, so neither would Blaine find himself in line for the CEO spot. But it was good for the family to be able to say they had a professor among their ranks. Blaine couldn't quite say the he regretted it, though; history had always been fascinating to him and he loved every task that his students threw at him. However, singing in the shower and supervising pseudo-school takeovers by a glee club just didn't quite scratch the itch.

Blaine dressed simply in jeans and a threadbare RENT tee-shirt that he had bought the first time he had ever seen the show. It rode up a bit when he sat down but he had never been able bring himself to throw it away. Instead, he layered a pale grey cardigan over it to hide what a sentimental fool he was, shoved his wallet in his back pocket, grabbed his keys, and hit the road. James hadn't mentioned which theater he worked at, but Blaine hadn't needed telling that he would be spending his night at the Westerville Performing Arts Center. He had tried to get a ticket on his own but by the time he made it to the box office after leaving Dalton for the night, they'd been sold out for the entire run.

The drive had been longer than he expected due to new construction and the lobby was packed when he arrived. Trying to make his way to the will call counter, Blaine hand a hard time keeping his enthusiasm from turning into rudeness. He really wanted to elbow people in the back, like he had with his friends at shows in the past, but he was supposed to be past that. Truthfully, Blaine knew he would never really grow out of that excited little boy stage. It was something his mother constantly complained about, that it would keep him from finding somebody nice to settle down with. In the end he only purposefully stepped on somebody's toes to get them to move out of the way once - the second time was purely by accident, honestly.

"Mister Anderson! You made it!" James beamed from behind his plexiglass shield.

"Wouldn't have missed it! I should give you a stern lecture about eavesdropping on conversations," Blaine said with a mock glare, "but I'm too thankful to actually care," he added quickly, grinning broadly when he saw the boy's expression fall.

"Any time, Mister Anderson," James replied, ringing up his total on the register. Blaine slid the cash through the small slot giddily. He didn't want to be acting this way over a _piece of paper_, but the moment he picked up the ticket all pretenses were dropped. He felt his face almost break open with the force of his smile and his heart started to pound. Yes, he was certainly home.

Blaine wanted to think he politely thanked James again but he knew that he had just sort of drifted off in a daze, humming happily to himself. He skirted around the perimeter of the crowd to the open theater doors to find his seat. It was something he always did, if possible, to get a moment to collect himself before a show. While everybody bought merchandise or Junior Mints, he sat and basked in the residual adrenaline that hung in the air of every theater. He did miss it - performing - but was happy enough getting just a tiny taste at shows that the stage shaped hole in his heart didn't ache all that often.

"Bl- Mister Anderson?" Blaine turned around to see a Kurt Hummel, of all people, walking down the center of the aisle towards him.

"Kurt! What a coincidence running into you here!" Blaine said happily. The boy's face lit up with his answering smile. "It's just Blaine, by the way. You're not one of my students."

"Blaine, then," Kurt said easily, like he had been using it in his head to think about Blaine since they met. Had he been thinking about Blaine? Enough to sound so warm and fond as he spoke? Blaine's heart jumped before he dropped a solid weight of morality on top of it to hold it down. Kurt was incredibly… inappropriate for him to be thinking those things about. And he was gorgeous and funny - if their text message conversations held true for his face to face conversational skills - and sarcastic and still completely inappropriate.

"Are you here for the show then?" Blaine asked stupidly, hastily adding, "I mean, by yourself?"

"My friend caught food poisoning from a bad batch of tater tots at school yesterday, so I sold her ticket and forged on alone," Kurt said with a sigh of regret, though his expression when talking about the potato product conveyed utter disgust. Blaine looked down at the ticket in his hand.

"You sold a ticket yesterday?" He asked slowly. "It wouldn't happen to have been seat ten, row G, would it?"

"Um, yes, it was. I'm seat eleven" Kurt replied hesitantly, obviously thrown by Blaine's question.

"Looks like I'm your seat mate then," Blaine said. Kurt's eyes widened comically before breaking out into another massive smile. Blaine's heart struggled valiantly under his morals at the sight.

"That's great! I was so worried somebody old bought it and I was going to have to sit next to somebody who smelled bad the entire show, which would have seriously just ruined everything. Have you seen this production yet? I came with my dad last week and Mimi is just perfection…" Blaine tuned out in utter fascination at how expressive Kurt was when he talked about something that he loved. But in not paying attention to Kurt's words, he noticed that several people were trying to get past them with little result. He laughed and reached out to gently pull Kurt aside. Instead of his shoulder, Blaine grabbed one of Kurt's gesturing hands. It was warm and as soft as Blaine imagined it would be. Instead of letting go, like he should, Blaine shifted his hand so that their fingers slot together. Kurt stopped talking and stared wide eyed at him.

"Let's go to our seats," Blaine said, gently tugging him forward down the incline. He reluctantly released Kurt when they reach their row, bowing dramatically and waving for him to go first. Blaine followed after and admired the gentle curve of his neck, the tailored cut of his jacket, wondering what it would be like if he were to spin Kurt around and investigate the skin just above the collar of his shirt. He was so fucked.


	3. In which Blaine sees RENT with Kurt

**AUTHORS NOTE: **I'd say that I was sorry for how long it took me to update but I'd be lying. My mother had to have some surgery and I've been taking care of her when I'm not at work. It wouldn't have been safe at the start to leave her alone much longer than my shifts to sit in my room or go to a café to write and it wouldn't have been fair after she started recuperating to just ditch her and leave her completely alone - she is bedridden to prevent complications. I had other things to worry about and writing was definitely not high on that list.

That being said, **thank you all for having this story on alert and being patient with me **3

**ANOTHER NOTE: **If possible, go into your preferences and turn on PMs so that I can reply to your reviews! I try to thank each person but it wont let me message a good portion of you! So anybody who hasn't gotten message from me, THANK YOU.

**MORE NOTES: **There will be smut_ eventually_, I promise, but the story seems to be taking me in a direction to explore Kurt's fear of sex. I feel like the show glossed over the fact that he was genuinely repulsed by it and that screams - to me, at least - the he isn't simply uneducated, but has something else going on, be it a phobia or a slightly asexual identification. I think the fact that Blaine was pushing Kurt to 'be sexy' was a poor move on the writers part (I love Blaine, don't think for a moment that this is bashing, I blame the _writers _for this completely). I'm just having a lot of thinky thoughts about Kurt, so bear with me as I figure them all out.

**STILL ANOTHER NOTE: **I think of teacher!Blaine as Darren with facial hair, because I think it makes him look older. Blaine's clean shaven face will come into play later ;)

**ONE LAST NOTE: **This is dedicated to muse09, lunapics, and chatterboxrose because they cared about me and my booboo when I burned my hand.

**Okay, really one last note:** sorry about any random tense changes, I dont use a beta and sometimes don't catch everything.

* * *

><p>Kurt sank into his plush theater chair, still trying to catch his breath. Blaine holding his hand had been… unexpected, but entirely welcomed. Kurt had been thinking about the man in every spare moment the entire week. How could he have thought of anything else when Blaine was everything he had ever dreamt about - somebody who understood what he was going through and encouraged him to be stronger, could make him laugh with the smallest of comments, who had warm, strong hands that fit easily around Kurt's. Mercedes had been asking him all week why he was grinning like an idiot, but what was he supposed to say? That he had a massive crush on somebody, a <em>man <em>with _facial hair_, that he had just met, who was a teacher, no less? It was just another case of him going after somebody who was unattainable.

"How many times have you seen the show before?" Blaine whispered, leaning in close so that his warm breath tickled Kurt's ear.

"Uh I- I mean, I've seen it twice before this production," Kurt replied stupidly. It was hard to think with Blaine sitting right next to him, their shoulders brushing as Blaine shifted around to get comfortable.

"I think this is the seventh time I've seen it live," Blaine grinned. "It's my absolute favorite. I'm sorry to say, but I'm really glad your friend got sick." Kurt blushed even though he knew that Blaine was talking about getting to see the show again, not about running into Kurt. It was nice to be delusional now and again.

"I'm sure she's happier with her soup and Kate Hudson movies, anyway. Mercedes isn't quite as into this as she pretends to be," he said, leafing through the playbill in his lap. He loved his best friend dearly, but he preferred his father's bewilderment to her half hearted interest.

"My mom has always been the same way. She humored me until I was old enough to go on my own."

"My mother loved the theater. She took me to as many shows as possible as soon as I was able to sit through till intermission without needing a bathroom break," Kurt bit his lip in embarrassment when he realized he was telling Blaine about his potty training experiences.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Your mother, you referred to her in the past - crap, I'm sorry I shouldn't have just blurted it out like that, that was insensitive of me," Blaine backpedaled, his hands wringing together nervously, like he wanted to reach out and physically make sure that Kurt was not offended.

"Oh, no it's alright. I mean, I didn't even… it's been a long time," Kurt sighed, the ever present pain in his chest flaring up for just a moment.

"It's great that you're able to keep this link to her," Blaine smiled warmly. "My grandmother would make a gingerbread house with me every Christmas. She died when I was nine and I haven't been able to look at one since." Kurt took a breath to speak again but the house lights dimmed for the final time and the curtains slid open on the first scene.

"Thank you," He whispered instead, nudging his shoulder hesitantly into Blaine's. Blaine covered Kurt's hand with his own for a brief moment in reply, leaving Kurt blushing till the end of Tune Up #2. But the touch was pushed to the back of his mind as the cast launched into the first real number, Kurt's second favorite of the show. _Rent _was the sort of song that woke you up, no matter who you were, or if you even liked musical theater. It had the vocal bravado of a classic show tune but the solid rock base that anybody could relate to. Kurt wanted to mouth the words, like he usually did, but felt self conscious with Blaine beside him instead of his dad or Mercedes.

Movement caught his eye and he dragged his eyes away from the ensemble. Blaine wasn't simply lip syncing along; he was getting so into the song that he had started to dance in his seat. It was improper theater behavior, and annoying, and so adorable that Kurt couldn't help it as he slipped a little bit further towards falling head over heels for the man.

Blaine noticed his gaze and froze, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. Kurt responded by over-enthusiastically miming Mark's next line. Blaine answered with Rodgers part just as dramatically and they fell into silent laughter as the show went on around them.

* * *

><p>"I love this part," Blaine whispered as the scene changed and Angel and the homeless man were revealed. He glanced over at Kurt as surreptitiously as possible and couldn't help but hear Collins' line <em>an angel indeed<em> echo over and over in his head. Kurt was even more gorgeous than when he had first seen him at Dalton the week before, at ease in his skin rather than jumpy and half terrified. His blue eyes were wide with excitement and a smile graced his lips as he stared ahead intently. Blaine wanted so badly to reach out and brush his thumb over the skin just below his jaw, to feel the smoothness with his own hands.

He dragged his eyes back to the show in time to watch Angel tug Collins off stage, back to her apartment where she was going to take care of him, patch up his wounds. Blaine felt something warm spread through his chest at the idea of Kurt curled up under a blanket, a mug of tea clasped in his hands, sheltered from the outside world. Irrationally, Blaine wished he could be that safe place for him, wanted to just block out the people that seemed so intent to harm this boy.

And there was the crux of the problem. Kurt was _technically _of the age of consent, but still so young and lost. As much as Blaine wanted to protect him, he wasn't sure if he would actually be able to help Kurt figure out who he was without messing him up. It was what had made him draw his hand back after apologizing for his foot-in-mouth blunder about Kurt's mother. He couldn't be that support, he didn't know how. Blaine had never been good at the advice thing - eventually his friends stopped coming to him for help and laughed whenever he thought he was making a helpful comment. 'Self confident, but not self-aware' David jokingly deemed him - but it was true.

But Kurt made him want to be good at it. For every single part of him that was screaming that he couldn't do this, that Kurt was a _child_, there was a part yelling just as loud that Kurt was a young man who was just looking for somebody to hold on to. A young man with so much more courage than Blaine could have ever imagined at that age. Those parts told him that there was a lot that he could learn from this seventeen year old that he hadn't been able to learn on his own. High school for a gay teen had been even scarier when he went through it. He hadn't had time to be proud, even after the transfer to Dalton. There was therapy to stop the nightmares and always being so alone, despite the friends he made. Maybe he could figure a few things our for himself from whatever was hiding behind Kurt's cold, superior persona.

Blaine reached out and unceremoniously slipped his hand under Kurt's where it was on the armrest. Kurt's fingers jittered like a startled butterfly for a moment before setting back down, though Blaine could feel the gentle quivering of the muscles beneath his skin. He waited, still as a statue, the scenes shifting before them into _Light My Candle_, for Kurt to make the next move. If he pulled away, Blaine would understand and apologize profusely and then most likely run away from everything and hate himself for getting depressed over something that probably would have never happened.

Kurt's fingers slowly slotted themselves between Blaine's. They curled and squeezed till their palms were flush against each other and Blaine could feel Kurt's rapid pulse beating against his own. He smiled to himself and tried to focus on the show again. They were already almost all the way through _Tango Maureen_, giving Blaine a bit of a shock. He hadn't realized that he had spaced out with his thoughts for that long. But he couldn't find a reason to be mad at himself for missing so much of his favorite show when there was this exciting new… something sitting literally in the palm of his hand.

* * *

><p>Kurt was positive that he doesn't breathe through the entire Life Support scene. Every single ounce of his focus was pinpointed on his hand. His hand that Blaine was holding. What was he supposed to do? Holding hands with Mercedes as they walked through the mall was one thing. This felt so completely, totally different. It was even different from when Blaine had taken his hand to lead him to their seats. He wasn't applying any pressure or tugging Kurt along. He was just waiting.<p>

For what?

Then it hit him. Blaine was waiting for him, for Kurt to do something, to take the next step. He was letting Kurt decide what happened. Kurt panicked for a moment. What was he supposed to do? Blaine was… Kurt didn't even know. Blaine was _older_ - and probably experienced in the sort of things that Kurt had stopped trying to learn about when he started to want to vomit. But now Blaine was trying to hold his hand with a gentle sort of hesitance that made Kurt think maybe he has been missing out on more than he thought by giving up.

Kurt laced his fingers together with Blaine's, tightening his hold until Blaine squeezed back. And they sat like that, side by side, holding hands, and watched the stage. Kurt Hummel held hands with a boy through _I'll Cover You_ and laughed with a boy through _Over The Moon_and broke his cardinal rule of seeing musicals and sang in the theater with a boy to _La Vie Bohème__. _And even if this didn't last, if Blaine quickly remembered that Kurt was still just a junior in high school and so very not worth his time, Kurt would always have the bright memory of this moment when something seemed to finally be going right.

* * *

><p>"So, um, may I ask a question?" Kurt spoke up once they had found a small secluded table in the lounge to wait out intermission. Blaine made a noise and smiled around the half of biscotti he was trying to shove into his mouth at all at once.<p>

"Sorry," he mumbled, covering his mouth to finish chewing. "Go ahead."

"What did it mean to you, holding hands?" Kurt asked straight out. He didn't want to play the maybe game again, especially since this time he knew he wouldn't be turned down because the other guy was straight. This time it would mean he was just defective.

"Does it have to mean something?" Kurt frowned at Blaine's words, already feeling the pain of being let down worm its way under his ribcage.

"I see," he sighed, eyes focused on the table where he had started to absentmindedly tear up the napkin under his glass of water from nerves.

"No, no. Don't be like that. I meant that we've just met. This last week of talking to you was great, you're witty and intelligent beyond your years. Ending up with this ticket is like some crazy intervention by the universe to tell me that I'm supposed to get to know you better," Blaine reached out and took one of Kurt's hands again. "I'm not going to lie, I'm incredibly attracted to you. But I'm not asking for anything like that, just the chance to get to know you and be here for you when shit at school gets to be too much. Is that okay?"

"I'd really like that," Kurt replied shyly, unable to really say anything else. Was he supposed to be able to do much other than that? He blinked at Blaine a few times before realizing that the man was expecting him to say something more.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked gently. His warm smile brought Kurt slightly out of his stupor.

"Yes. Sorry, I'd sort of given up and now you're here and kind of fantastic and actually interested in me and I'm barely twenty miles from home. It is taking me a bit longer to process this," Kurt said, trying and failing to laugh off his awkwardness. The sound was hollow and dry.

"Kurt, it's fine if you don't want-"

"It's, I mean no, I do! I wasn't kidding when I said I had given up. The only guys I've had crushes on have been straight. I thought this would never happen. Ever."

"That you'd run into somebody else in Lima who was gay?"

"No. That somebody would be attracted to me," Kurt swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat at the admission. Blaine laughed suddenly and lifted Kurt's hand off the table. Before Kurt realized what was happening, Blaine pressed a chaste kiss to each of Kurt's knuckles.

"You're far too young to be so jaded, please don't ever think that again," he murmured against Kurt's skin and Kurt flushed hotly right up to the tips of his hears.

"Is that going to be a problem?" he squeaked out. Blaine hummed, his scruffy facial hair tickling Kurt's skin as a wide grin broke out over his face at the crack in his voice. "Me being only seventeen? I mean, I don't think it's illegal but people might-"

"Who cares what they think? We're not going to be advertising that I'm twenty-four and you're barely of age or having lewd public displays of affection that would make them ask questions. We'll just be two friends, doing things together."

"That hold hands."

"Friends that hold hands," Blaine laughed. "I like that. Maybe one day I'll be promoted to a friend who gets hugs?"

"Has anybody ever told you that you're kind of a dork?" Kurt asked, his embarrassment fading and quickly being replaced by a new warm familiarity.

"All the time," Blaine assured him. The lights dimmed for a moment, signaling the end of intermission.

"I should warn you," Kurt said as they moved with the crowd back into the theater, their hands still clasped together, "I am very prone to sobbing during the second act."

Blaine made a triumphant noise and used his free hand to dig something from the pocket of his cardigan. Kurt had always firmly believed that such pockets were nonsensical and served no purpose, but seriously considered revising that stance when Blaine produced an honest-to-god handkerchief. "I've been dying my whole life to give this to somebody who needs to dry their eyes."

"That is so tragically chivalrous," Kurt half teased, taking the offered square of cotton and clutching it despite his words and pack of tissues in his jacket pocket

"I was raised in a different time," Blaine sniffed, pretending to stare off in the distance and reminisce. The effect was ruined by him bursting into laughter a moment later, earning him a nudge in the ribs from Kurt's elbow. They took their seats and turned their attention to the stage. Just as the curtains swept open on, Blaine yawned loudly, stretching his arms obnoxiously up over his head. Kurt realized what was happening about two seconds before Blaine's arm settled warmly on his shoulders and let out an undignified snort.

"Did that work with your old boyfriends?"

"No. Is it working now?"

"A bit," Kurt admitted and placed a quick, fleeting kiss on Blaine's cheek. He turned back to watch the cast gather on stage to perform _Seasons of Love_ with a burning blush on his face.

* * *

><p>"You can sing," Kurt blurted suddenly as they exited the theater into the cool fall air.<p>

"I used to, when I was a student at Dalton," Blaine admitted. "And that wasn't singing," he added, assuming Kurt was referring to how he had sang softly along with Roger during _Your Eyes. _He hadn't meant to sing to Kurt, per se, but he found himself half whispering the words against the shell of the boy's ear by the end of the first few lines.

"It sounded great," Kurt assured him, slowing to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. "Even though we didn't plan this, I had a really great time."

"I did, too. Look, Kurt-"

"Um, Blaine-"

"Oh sorry-"

"You go first-"

"You can go-"

They both burst out laughing and Blaine found that he really, really liked the crinkles around Kurt's eyes when he smiled like that. He caught his breath and rushed to speak first this time.

"I'd like to take you out properly," he said, his ears turning what was most likely a very unbecoming fire engine red immediately.

"You mean, like, on a date?" Kurt asks quietly, looking up at Blaine from beneath his lashes and blushing gorgeously. Blaine swallowed hard, trying not to stare.

"Yes, a date. We could meet for coffee tomorrow after my office hours are over?"

"That sounds perfect," Kurt exclaimed. His eyes lit up and he bit his lip in a way that made Blaine's thoughts wander to incredibly inappropriate places, mostly involving the different ways he could make Kurt do that again using only his mouth. He pulled Kurt into a tight hug, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below his ear.

"Now we're even," He whispered before pulling back. His face was warm and he saw an answering flush on Kurt's cheeks. As they parted ways, Blaine couldn't help but feel like he was getting the teenage dream that he had been denied in his high school years. And it felt brilliant.


	4. Days 1 through 15

**A/N 1 : **To be honest, I haven't really edited this chapter at all. I've been working on it since, according to my computer, July 22nd and I don't think I've read the first few sections since the start of August. I put out a call for a beta and nobody responded. I hope I caught most of the mistakes as I was re-reading each part after writing it, but I can't make any guarantees.

Anywhoozle, I hope you enjoy the update!

**EDIT: **In copypasta-ing some parts of the final section randomly got lost. It's not a huge change, just a few lines actually. They've been fixed now though!

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, Day 1<strong>

Coffee the next day with Blaine was nothing short of perfection for Kurt. Blaine was waiting for him in the parking lot and kissed the back of his hand in greeting, sparking their discussion in line for coffee about the loss of chivalry in modern society. They sat outside in the crisp fall air, around the corner from the large bay windows. Blaine assured him it was because the breeze wouldn't chill them there. But Kurt was sure it had a little more to do with the red and white lettermen jackets that he had noticed while they waited in line. He didn't mind so much; it was nice for somebody to look out for him in a subtle way. He appreciated the efforts of Finn and the other Glee boys, but their idea of protection usually only brought more attention to Kurt.

They spent several hours outside the coffee shop, people watching and asking each other questions. Kurt found out that Blaine had three older brothers and a little sister, had played polo in college, and lost the nail on his right big toe in a bowling accident. When Kurt went inside to buy a blueberry muffin - low fat, of course - Blaine moved their chairs so they were side by side and slung his arm over the back. Kurt pretended to be appalled at the move, but he immediately leaned into Blaine's hand when it slipped off the chair and rested on his shoulder.

Kurt's phone buzzed with a text message in the middle of a discussion about Anna Wintour's true motivations behind outfit repeating. _Dad - i no ur with friends but I need help wit dinner_. Kurt sighed as he tucked his phone back into his coat pocket.

"Something wrong?"

"No, not exactly. My dad asked me to come home to help with dinner, so I've got to get going," Kurt explained sadly. He stood up reluctantly and tried not to feel too upset with his dad - he was the one who neglected to mention that he was on a _date _and not just hanging out with somebody.

"I'll walk you to your car," Blaine said, putting a hand at the small of Kurt's back and guiding him gently around the chairs so that he didn't trip. He kept his hand there the short distance to Kurt's Navigator, high enough to respectable, of course, but the intimacy of the touch sent Kurt's stomach into knots. It felt amazing and terrifying at the same time.

"I'm really glad you wanted to come out with me today," Blaine said when they stopped beside the SUV. "I was kind of worried you'd call to cancel."

"Why would I do that?"

"I'm this older guy that you've just met who should know better than to pursue you. I thought you might think I was creepy."

"Technically, it's not illegal. The age of consent in Ohio is seventeen," Kurt said quickly. He'd done his research after the mention of legality during intermission the night before.

"It's not that I'm trying to push you away, or that what I said last night about not caring what people think was false bravado. But I am a teacher," Blaine countered, though the pained look on his face showed that he wished he hadn't said anything.

"You're not _my_ teacher," Kurt said firmly. "I don't go to Dalton, so you're not doing anything wrong. I want this, you're not coercing me into anything."

"Sorry. I have the tendency to get ahead of myself a bit, worry about everything," Blaine said sheepishly.

"And I don't think you're creepy. That is exactly the opposite of what I think," Kurt said with what he hoped was an assuring smile. Blaine laughed and shifted so that he was standing in front of Kurt, who bit his lip nervously at the sudden change in the air around them. Blaine was moving slightly closer, leaning and - Kurt didn't realize he had taken a small step back until the apologies started to spill from Blaine's mouth.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to - I didn't even think, I mean I did, I thought you looked so cute just then. I'm so sorry," Blaine babbled, reaching to take both of Kurt's hands in his.

"It's fine. It was just… new. I was just surprised," Kurt said, though he knew he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself instead of Blaine.

"It's okay to want to move slow, Kurt. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," Blaine said, pulling Kurt's hands up to his face and pressing a quick to the back of each. "This is still okay?"

"Yes," Kurt said quietly. "I just need some time."

"Of course," Blaine agreed. He dropped Kurt's hands and pulled him into a hug, which Kurt eagerly relaxed into. This was familiar, something he was comfortable with. Right then, the romance of the fleeting touches were enough. Everything else… would come on its own. He hoped.

"How about this," Blaine said a few moments later when he slowly pulled away. "In one month, we'll try that again and see how it goes."

"One month?"

"Thirty days of dates and old fashioned wooing, leading up to your first kiss. Our first kiss; real kiss that is, considering this thing I seem to be developing for your hands," Blaine said, linking their fingers together once again.

"You do seem to be rather fascinated by them," Kurt said coolly despite the butterflies that start up again in his stomach at the touch.

"So, one month?"

"Yeah, one month," he answered, a grin tugging at his lips. "It's a date."

**Sunday, Day 2**

_From Blaine : _What time do you have lunch?

_To Blaine : _11:30, after French

_From Blaine : _How long does it last?

_To Blaine : _Until 12:20, why?

_From Blaine : _Want to meet for lunch tomorrow?

_To Blaine : _Sounds wonderful

**Monday, Day 3**

Blaine picked up Chinese take-out from a place near Dalton - remembering to get brown rice for Kurt, who had made sure he couldn't possibly forget with the four different text messages- and drove to the park that they had agreed to meet up at. It was in the middle of a suburb and usually empty during the school day.

When Blaine pulled into the small parking lot, there was only one mother with her toddler running around on the equipment. But they were far enough away from the pavilion that he figured they wouldn't be any bother. He spread the plastic table cloth across the picnic table and was unpacking the big brown paper bag that held their lunch when Kurt pulled his SUV up beside Blaine's little BMW.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," Kurt said. "French ran over because Madame wouldn't let us leave until Adam had conjugated all of his verbs for the week from memory. I hate being in a mixed level class."

"What level are you in?" Blaine asked as they sat down.

"Technically, I'm in level four," Kurt explained, digging into orange chicken with gusto. "But my transcripts will have six credits of French because I got a five on the AP test last year."

"Isn't the AP test for people in French five?"

"Well it's like this," and Kurt launched into a detailed account of his rise to fluency and the intense battle that he had to fight in order to try for the test early, complete with hand gestures that rivaled Blaine's grandmother for expressiveness. There were a few moments when he thought that Kurt was going to flail too enthusiastically and lose grip on the piece of chicken or glob of sticky rice, but he somehow managed to keep hold of all but one piece of his lunch - lost only because he intentionally flung it at an inquiring crow that had been hopping too close to the table.

Blaine recounted the disastrous semester that was his only attempt at learning French, as well as his only failed course. Kurt made fun of him for not understanding conjugation and Blaine took the teasing in stride, reminding Kurt that he had an undergraduate minor in Spanish instead. Things were going smoothly until Kurt innocently suggested that Blaine had simply not yet found the right French teacher.

He tried to listen to Kurt telling him about his day so far after that, but there was really no ignoring the sudden mental images that _Kurt_ and _French teacher_ brought up in his mind. Mostly they involved Blaine crowding Kurt up onto a desk so he could kiss him properly without overbalancing. He wondered if he leaned over in that very moment and kissed Kurt, if he would taste the orange chicken and soy sauce when he flicked out his tongue to learn the feel of Kurt's lips.

Blaine bid Kurt a distracted goodbye as his lunch hour dwindled away, simply pressing a kiss to his knuckles and not even getting up from the table - which he explained away with needing a minute to digest before cleaning up. He sat at the picnic table for several minutes after Kurt drove off, willing his erection to just go away already.

It was going to be a long 27 more days.

**Thursday, Day 6**

Kurt started making lasagna the moment he walked in the door from school. Originally he had had plans with Blaine for an early dinner but there had been an unexpected teacher's meeting that caused him to cancel. He'd texted Blaine back during fifth period to be on the lookout for a black SUV waiting outside when he was done with the meeting and started to formulate his plan. Once packed into insulated containers, dinner would stay hot for three hours, giving him plenty of time to loiter around Dalton's parking lot. When Blaine got out he would drive them to a park nearby and they'd sit in the back of the Navigator and watch the sunset.

Of course, when Kurt walked out of his last class of the day, the sky had been overcast and threatening rain.

But he soldiered on with his plans, wrestling with the back seat of the car for ten minutes before his Dad finally showed up and offered a hand. He checked on the lasagna in the oven before dragging his favorite picnic blanket and least favorite pillows out to make what Finn had deemed to be a nest as he stood by and pretended to be helping in order to get dibs on extra pieces of garlic bread. Kurt packed the food into the various containers and coolers and was pretty sure he was about to get away scott free when his dad appeared by his side as he tried to decide between red or white sparkling grape juice.

"So, all these preparations wouldn't happen to be for a date, would they?" Burt asked as nonchalantly as he could manage - which was quite blunt and obvious.

"Sort of," Kurt said.

"How is it a sort of date?"

"We're dating, but we're not _together_, yet. We have a mutual interest in each other and but everything is so new to me, so we're taking it slow."

"And by everything you mean…?"

"Oh, god, Dad - no, don't look at me like that. I meant going on dates, or even just not being the only gay boy in town," Kurt assured him, tucking the red grape juice into a cooling sleeve.

"You just be careful," Burt said gruffly and kissed Kurt on the top of the head before dishing himself a plate and ambling back out of the kitchen. Kurt wanted to run after him and scold him for taking such a big serving of lasagna when it clearly wasn't good for his diet, but he was momentarily frozen by the fact that his father had just given him his blessing to go on date without asking to meet Blaine first. It was either a miracle or a sign of the apocalypse.

It turned out to be the second one.

It started to rain two minutes into his drive to Dalton and by the time he parked beside Blaine's car, it was pouring. It was another hour of rolling thunder and lightning until his phone pinged with the message that Blaine was packing up to leave. A few minutes later, he was climbing into the passenger seat and dripping water everywhere. Kurt handed him a towel from the emergency kit in the back seat and held his jacket up to the heaters while Blaine scrubbed at his hair.

"Well I planned a picnic but it's going to be a bit difficult to get into the back now that I can't open the tailgate from all the rain," Kurt said with a sigh. He guessed they could just eat in the front seats, but that sort of defeated the purpose of all the work he had done to get the third row of seats out of the car. Blaine simply smiled and reclined his seat back all the way. He kicked off his shoes and was suddenly flopping over the back of the middle seats and disappearing into the darkness.

"There are so many pillows back here!" he exclaimed as Kurt sat momentarily stunned. It took him a few moments to unlace his boots, but he followed suit as soon as he got his bearings again - albeit a bit more gracefully than Blaine had managed.

"I thought it would be nicer than sitting on the grass," he said as he sat down against the pillows beside Blaine. After a brief fumble in the darkness, Kurt found his second emergency kit - Burt was incredibly adamant that there was never a such a thing as too much preparedness - and pulled out a small battery operated lamp. He pulled the insulated bag closer and set about dishing up two plates in the dim yellow light.

They ate with their plates balanced on their knees and their paper cups wedged upright between pillows, Blaine talking quietly about the terrible budget cuts the school would possibly be facing due to the death of one of their most wealthy alumnae. His children were trying to argue that the trusts he set up for them superseded the donation he gave to the school, despite the clause in the will that stated they were to be given their money after his alma mater. It was a big deal and Blaine was glad he was only working there for a year so he wouldn't be faced with possible termination of the case settled out of their favor.

It was a dreadfully boring situation to Kurt; he didn't plan on having money left in his bank account when he died. But he liked watching the way that Blaine's eyes crinkled at the corners from how brightly he smiled when he talked about teaching. The lamp started to flicker and die as they ate the brownies Kurt had taken many pains to hide form Finn. Blaine was having trouble eating left handedly due to his stubborn reluctance to let go of Kurt's hand with his right one. There were crumbs everywhere and he knew he would have to vacuum, but Kurt decided to just relax about it all for once. He even took off bowtie and undid the button on his collar.

It maybe wasn't the picture perfect high school romance straight from the movies that he had always imagined, but Kurt was starting to think that real life was a lot better than he had previously given it credit for.

**Sunday, Day 9**

Blaine sat stiffly in his usual chair at his father's right side, across from his mother, and listened to the boring anecdote about the golf game that morning with some business associates that he had been lucky enough to miss out on. It was expected, now that he was back in the area, that he show up for Sunday dinner in clothes his father would approve of, face clean shaven, curly hair gelled the way he had done it in high school - an imitation of his father's own look, from when the man had hair that is - and make it through the meal with minimal conflict.

It wasn't something he particularly wanted to deal with, and he certainly didn't need to be civil to the man for financial support anymore. Despite being a substitute teacher, Dalton paid him good enough money to afford his apartment and a comfortable cushion of spending money each month - not to mention the fact that he had access to the massive trust fund his grandfather had left him.

But if he could manage it all, his mother wouldn't look at him with such sadness in her eyes as she walked him out to his car. For her, he would grin and bear it. Though if his smile was a little more genuine that week, he would never admit that it was due to the continuous soft buzzing of his phone to alert him of Kurt's running commentary on the latest episode of Iron chef.

**Tuesday, Day 11**

"Do you want to go bowling this Saturday?" Blaine asked the moment Kurt answered the phone.

"Hello, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking," Kurt huffed.

"Sorry," Blaine said with a laugh. "I jumped the gun there a little, huh?"

"It's alright. So bowling?"

"Yeah! I found a buy one get one free coupon in the paper!"

"You drive a BMW, why are you clipping coupons?"

"It's fun," Blaine replied defensively.

"Right, and you want me to go bowling with you when your idea of fun is cutting up newspapers?"

"You organize your DVD collection by the exact number of minutes and seconds," Blaine reminded him teasingly.

"Touché."

"I'll tell you more about it at dinner on Thursday?"

"Sounds perfect."

**Thursday, Day 13**

Blaine fiddled nervously with his napkin ring as Kurt argued with the waitress about the lettuce in the salads. He wanted to interrupt Kurt and remind him that they were only at Breadstix, but he was too preoccupied with trying to figure out how to explain to Kurt that their Saturday had somehow turned from a night out for two into a veritable class reunion. He'd made the mistake of mentioning to Wes that he was taking Kurt to the bowling alley they had frequented in high school. Before he could come up with an excuse, his friends were making plans to show up to meet Kurt.

He was worried about introducing Kurt to them. Not because of the age difference - it wasn't like David could say anything after dating that thirty six year old cougar their sophomore year in college - but because they lacked an ounce of discretion. He'd barely been dating Kurt for two weeks and didn't want his friends to send him running with their poorly hidden desire to see Blaine in a serious relationship. If Wes made one reference to white picket fences, he was getting a bowling ball to the face.

"Blaine," Kurt snapped.

"Hmm?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for like a minute."

Blaine looked to where the waiter had been standing beside their table and realized the man was gone. "Sorry. Lost in thought. What were you saying?"

"I asked if you read about Elmhurst and their new scholarship idea."

"Oh, the identity one? Well it could really go so many ways," he said, thankful for the distraction. Their conversation about the Elmhurst application lasted through most of dinner and kept Kurt from asking what Blaine had been thinking about before. But then the waitress brought out the desert menus and jogged his memory by jokingly saying that it was nice to see Blaine without a vacant expression on his face.

"What had you so spaced out earlier?" Kurt asked once the girl had walked away to get their order from the kitchen.

"It's about Saturday," Blaine admitted. Kurt's teasing grin immediately fell.

"Oh. It's okay if you don't want to go out in public yet, I know we're still working up to things," he said, eyes dropping to the table top. Blaine quickly reached out to take Kurt's hand before he pulled it off the table and withdrew into himself.

"I'm not cancelling. There's just a change of plans," Blaine assured him with a tight squeeze to his fingers.

"Oh, okay. I just - you said we would just be friends who do things together and I didn't know-"

"This isn't just about just getting to know you for me anymore," he admitted. "I've been dating for longer than you've been out of puberty and nobody has ever made it so easy to just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know, just be with them. The guys I've dated have been so high maintenance in all the wrong ways."

"Are you saying I'm high maintenance in a good way?"

"Um. Yeah?" Blaine muttered, scratching the back of his neck. Well his foot was in his mouth now. "Okay, I don't mean it in a negative way. They were demanding because they didn't trust me or were too insecure. You are confident enough in yourself to know that I'm not going to ditch you when I talk to other guys."

"You're talking to other guys?" Kurt frowned.

"Shit, no, just like hanging out with my friends," he said quickly. "Like last Friday when I had to cancel our movie date to work with Wes on revisions of his thesis, you were upset that I had to cancel, not because I was going to be at Wes' all night helping him out."

"Why would I be mad that you were being a good friend?"

"Exactly. They all did. I guess, looking back, I haven't really dated any great people. Until now, until you."

"Me?" Kurt scoffed, but Blaine caught how his expression brightened and his cheeks tinged pink.

"I'm crazy about you, Kurt. Something just clicked when I met you, like I could breathe properly for once."

"Blaine," Kurt said softly, his fingers twitching beneath Blaine's.

"I'm sorry if this is too fast, I just - my friends sort of invited themselves to meet you on Saturday. And I'd like to be able to introduce you to them as my boyfriend."

There was a long pause of silence when Blaine thought that Kurt was going to pull his hand away and leave. He looked so genuinely terrified for a moment that Blaine wished he could take back the words and just tell his friends to fuck off and leave him alone. But it had all come out in his rush to assure Kurt that everything was fine, that he wasn't cancelling on him again and starting to pull away, and now he had to just pray that it wasn't too much, too soon.

"I thought you'd never ask," Kurt said, breaking Blaine's train of thought, his voice confident and a half smile on his lips.

Blaine let out a sigh of relief and brought Kurt's hand to his lips to press several enthusiastic kisses to the back of it. "This doesn't change anything about our plans for the end of the month, okay? We're still waiting."

"Okay. It is nice to put a name on it though. It was complicated to explain to my dad when he asked who I was hanging out with so much," Kurt said happily. Blaine suddenly found himself unable to say anything, faced with the realization that he would probably have to actually go through Meeting the Parents.

"Um, K-Kurt?" Blaine stammered.

"Yes?" They paused as the waitress finally arrived with the slice of chocolate silk pie they had ordered.

"Your dad. He doesn't own a shot gun, does he?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaine," Kurt scoffed, taking the first bite of pie. He chewed, swallowed, and then smiled brightly. "He prefers a cross bow."

**Saturday, Day 15**

Wes elbowed David in the ribs when he saw Blaine walk through the front doors. He was clean shaven, something they only ever saw if they met up with him on Sunday mornings, and he looked more like a bright eyed college student than a man working towards the end of his graduate degree. There was a collective intake of breath as they all turned to watch as Blaine turned to hold the door open for his date.

"Holy shit," Nick said loudly, which seemed to be the general consensus of the group's quiet mutterings. Blaine had mentioned that his new boyfriend was younger, but Wes had assumed that meant he was just starting in the graduate program. Kurt looked barely old enough to be out past eleven on weekends and Wes would have put money on him still being in high school if any of their friends hadn't been too flabbergasted to offer the bet.

Blaine spotted them and waved before starting over towards their lanes, spurring them all to try and act as normally as possible. Wes draped his arm back over Melissa's shoulders and tried to look interested in programming his name in the computer. David was suddenly very concerned with the weight of his bowling ball.

"Hey guys!" Blaine said cheerily. "This is Kurt."

"It's very nice to meet you all," Kurt said politely but the way that Blaine suddenly turned and smothered his laughter into Kurt's shoulder said that there was a joke there that Wes was missing out on. Everybody else seemed to pick up on the same thing because their tones as they introduced themselves were a strange mix of wary and approving.

"What school do you go to?" Jeff said boldly.

"Yeah, take a seat and tell us about yourself while Blaine runs and grabs your shoes," Nick added.

"Like I'd rent those disgusting things," Kurt laughed. He patted the duffle bag slung over Blaine's shoulder. "I brought all my own stuff."

"Already carrying his bags for him, Blaine?" David joked, earning a sigh and a frown as Blaine set the bag down on one of the empty seats.

"I'm going to run and pay for our games and my shoes. I'll be back in a minute," Blaine said, kissing Kurt's cheek and whispering something that might have been _play nice, _but Wes was too far away to read his lips properly.

"So, school?" Jeff reminded once Kurt was on his own.

"McKinley High. I actually hear we were your rivals back when you were all in school?"

"The McKinley football team is legendary for sucking. There's no way you guys were our rivals," Thad scoffed. Kurt looked him up and down and seemed disappointed.

"Thad, right? Hmm, Blaine made you sound taller," he sniffed. "As I'm not on the football team anymore, I can agree that they are rather terrible. I was actually talking about Glee Club. Of course our program deteriorated quite a bit after Sandy's reign as head of the club, but I think we've made enough of a recovery to trounce the Warblers at sectionals this year."

"You're in Glee Club?"

"Countertenor."

"That's pretty incredible!"

Kurt simply made a soft noise of assent began to remove his boots. Wes got the distinct impression that Thad had just been thoroughly dismissed. There were several moments of silence before Melissa seemed to decide that it was up to her to salvage the evening.

"I can't imagine that Blaine gets out of Westerville that often, so how did the two of you meet if you go to school in Lima?" she asked. Wes pulled her tighter to his side, feeling incredibly protective and wary of what was about to happen next.

"I was spying on the Warblers a few weeks ago and he thought I was just breaking dress code," Kurt said as he started tightening the laces on his black and white wingtip bowling shoes.

"So none of the students noticed that you were there?" Jeff cut in curiously. Dalton was an incredibly tight knit community and always noticed when something changed.

"It's amazing what a school map and official looking folder will do for your credibility to be out of uniform. They all seemed rather dim to be honest."

The conversation died as Kurt pulled a positively poisonous looking bowling ball from the bag. It was black and silver swirled together with shots of bright purple and Wes was pretty sure that he would die if he touched it.

"Getting to know each other?" Blaine asked when he came back. Kurt just laughed and set his bowling ball on the return rack. Blaine simply shook his head, smiling fondly, and sat down to put on his shoes.

"Kurt, we usually always play in order of how we arrive, so you'd be last but being a first time guest we can bump you-"

"I'll be fine," Kurt assured David, settling against Blaine's side.

Everybody exchanged confused looks once Kurt had Blaine suitably distracted with whatever he was quietly telling him. How in the world had Blaine fallen for somebody so… terrifying? And why were they all so scared of somebody who was still in high school after just a few minutes of talking to Kurt? Wes had been part of many a group intimidation effort to test new significant others and they had always prevailed. This guy, this _boy_, had cause them to back off with their tails between their legs with barely a full conversation.

He was perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2 :** Thank you everybody for the well wishes for my mother, she ended up making a very speedy recovery - though I still had to spend a lot of time driving her around from place to place once she was cleared of bedrest. I'm back at school and now that the two and a half weeks of crazy 13 hour days in training and then leading orientation for the new students finished, I hope things will finally calm down for me! Classes should be pretty calm but I've got a lot of extra-curricular things to do with my sorority and a few other clubs I'm joining this semester!

I've gotten several questions about Blaine's physical appearance in this story and while I think it was indirectly cleared up in the story, here is what is going on with him in my head cannon:

* He grew several inches after going off to college and is now about two or three inches taller than Kurt (a gap that will be closed to just half an inch once Kurt hits an unexpected growth spurt as well).

* He wears his hair kinda short but curly and only uses the gel when he has to go see his parents, as demonstrated by the family dinner scene.

* Another thing about that scene is that he shaves every Sunday to go to dinner and then doesn't again until the next week or if he has a meeting with a parent or the president of the school during the week - So he's pretty scruffy by the weekend. This is because he looks incredibly young when he's clean shaven, as mentioned by Wes in the final scene, and he feels like he won't be respected if he doesn't appear his age.


End file.
